Film Review: The Djinn (2021)
It’s true that there are moments in The Djinn that make the horror fan in me want to roll my eyes and groan, but sometimes it’s these very moments that make me realize why I’m a horror fan in the first place. I don’t mind hitting the pause button on my brain every now and again if it means allowing myself to have fun with a movie or admitting that I like a little bit of cheesiness in my scary stories. And to that end, it’s perfectly okay that The Djinn isn’t particularly deep or complex because, frankly, it isn’t trying to be. It’s trying to be fun – and in that, it succeeds.
Stripped to its essential parts, The Djinn is a small, minimalist survival horror yarn with a demonic pact twist from the writing and directing team of David Charbonier and Justin Powell. Elements of its set-up might be contrived and downright implausible (and you guessed it – cheesy) – such as 12-year-old Dylan (Ezra Dewey) finding the horribly clichéd “Book of Shadows” in his closet and deciding, “Why not? Let’s cast a blood ritual.” – but The Djinn doesn’t dwell on any of them long enough to matter much in the long run. The point is to get to the horror, which Charbonier and Powell do in good time.
After Dylan, a mute boy who has recently lost his mother (Tevy Poe), uses the aforementioned book to wish for a voice, he inadvertently unleashes an evil and duplicitous spirit into the world. Never mind that the book looks like it was printed the day before yesterday on a public library laser printer because what it lets loose is a genuinely creepy shapechanger with a severe case of bloodlust. If Dylan can survive it until midnight, his wish will be granted. Otherwise, he’s djinn food.
This premise works surprisingly well, and Charbonier and Powell prove creatively adept at accentuating the positives of this very sparse story while keeping its negatives well hidden. To maintain a sense of confinement and claustrophobia (and a limited budget, no doubt) the djinn’s magic won’t allow Dylan to leave the small apartment, which forces a cramped cat-and-mouse game that moves along quickly enough to draw attention away from its improbability. But, when talking about sadistic mythological creatures who stalk children and devour their souls, terms like “probable” or “improbable” don’t always need to be high on the list of importance. We’re here for the tension and unease, of which we get plenty.
The Djinn isn’t likely to blow any minds, but its quick pace and nightmarish presentation should pair well with a big bowl of popcorn and some low lighting. The late-’80s setting seems superfluous and inauthentic (radio stations were not playing synthpop in 1989 – try Janet Jackson and Paula Abdul), but does demonstrate how movie plotting and structure was vastly different before the existence of cell phones. In addition, had The Djinn actually been released in 1989, I have no doubt I would have taped it off HBO and watched it repeatedly, much like I did with my other favorites from that year: Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade, The Burbs, UHF, and probably something terrible like Puppet Master. All that aside, though, I generally enjoy this kind of stripped-down, indie approach to filmmaking, and I look forward to what Charbonier and Powell can come up with when given a decent budget.
